


me and my husband

by skies_and_caverns



Category: Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: Dreamon, Heavy Angst, M/M, all but clay and fundy are mentioned briefly, also based off the song, and the joke they had of dream marrying fundy, god!dream, me and my husband - Freeform, this is based off of their PERSONAS
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-15
Updated: 2020-11-15
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:40:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27571687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skies_and_caverns/pseuds/skies_and_caverns
Summary: The Dreamon ritual was meant to save him.But Dream would be damned if he told Fundy what he'd done.
Relationships: Clay | Dream/Floris | Fundy
Comments: 50
Kudos: 487





	me and my husband

**Author's Note:**

> :)

> _-I steal a few breaths from the world for a minute_

Dream had always loved the outdoors. Had always loved the way the fresh air flowed throughout his deteriorating body, briefly rejuvenating it with every inhale. It felt illegal, somewhat, for him to sit still in these moments and just breathe. For _this_ to be how he enjoyed his life as it ticked away like a time bomb. For _this_ to be how he spent his time as the members of his world fought amongst each other. 

> - _And then I’ll be nothing, forever._

He ran his hand fondly along the roots of the tree he leaned his back against. The bark was rough; especially so over the carving of a heart on the trunk. The orange, red, and brown leaves rustled in the soft gusts of the wind in a beautiful melody. 

> _-And all of my memories,_

It was his favorite tree, mostly because it was the first plant that Fundy had ever given him, back when he was courting Dream. It always amused him to remember the day he walked out of his cottage and found none other than Fundy, heaving up a full-sized apple tree up the mountain his cottage was built upon. Needless to say, he planted the damn thing in his front yard and watered it religiously to keep the reminder of that day alive (especially after their marriage).

> _-And all the things I’ve seen will be gone_.

He prayed that his cottage--no, _their_ cottage--would survive the explosion. Prayed that their cottage would survive the onslaught of TNT that Wilbur was bound to unleash upon the world Dream created. It was doubtful that the building _would_ make it, but maybe, just _maybe_ , it would. After all, Dream built his home on top of the tallest mountain in the area for a reason. 

> _-With my eyes, with my body, with me._

But who knew if he’d even make it to the final battle? If his fading body would last just one more week. His eyes (which Fundy liked to say looked exactly like Eyes of Ender) were growing blurry, his body (which had lasted for millennia longer than it should have) was beginning to flash in and out of existence at random, and then him. Dream, who had seen the rise and fall of various worlds and peoples. Dream, who had once commanded an entire kingdom of Dreamons and controlled the ebb and flow of countless wars. 

Dream, whose immortal clock had finally begun to tick. 

> _-But me and my husband,_

And Fundy? He didn’t know. He could _never_ know. He could never know that the ritual he and Tubbo had performed on the green-clad god had essentially killed him. How the ritual stripped him of his immortality and began the slow and painful process of returning his energy to the core of the world itself. How every step, which had once been so light and spry, now landed heavily and slowly. 

The ritual Fundy had helped set in motion was meant to help him, he knew that. _But_. When a god like him, a Dreamon, was reborn, they only had a week to live before the earth reclaimed her immortal child.

> _-We are doing better_.

Oh, how Dream would miss Fundy. He clutched at his chest absently as he looked out over the streets of Manburg, where he could barely make out his husband making a dunk machine for the Festival. 

Dream would miss him, he really would. Until his last dying breath, choked from him as the vines finally drew him back down under, he would miss Fundy. 

He stood up and walked back into the house, trailing his hands along the walls as he made his way to the bedroom. He rummaged around under the bed and removed a loose floorboard to pull out a smooth oaken box, engraved with a small heart and their names in the corner. 

> _-It’s always been just him and me together._

He opened the lid and gently took out a photo taken of him and Fundy during their wedding. He remembered it vividly: how the crowd in full armor had fallen away as he gazed into his fiancé’s big, brown eyes. The preacher’s (Bad; he still remembered being shocked that he was legally allowed to marry them) kind voice had drifted off with the wind. The wind, which filtered through Fundy’s orange locks and pushed them into his eyes and made him blink spastically as Fundy refused to let go of Dream's hands. Amused (and more than a little in love), Dream had raised his hand and lovingly brushed the hair out of his eyes, lips curving up under his mask. 

And when they were pronounced husband and husband? That memory was so cherished that he refused to let it die. It would be immortalized in the very chimes of the wind, in every song that the bluebirds Fundy liked to set seeds out for sang. And it would be immortalized in the picture he held delicately in his hands.

Fundy, the beautiful man himself, hadn’t demanded Dream take his mask off for their kiss. He had just simply reached up on his tiptoes and tugged Dream down by the straps of his chestplate to press a big kiss on his porcelain mask, right over where his lips were.

In that moment, Dream knew he’d made the right decision in finally letting his walls down, at least for Fundy.

> _-So I bet all I have on that furrowed brow,_

Dream knew that his refusal to take off his mask bothered his husband, who had never _once_ seen his face. He knew it in the way Fundy would turn with a wide grin and reach up to kiss him, only to pause as his smile stuttered and he remembered he couldn't take off Dream’s mask. He knew it in the way they had climbed on the roof and stargazed, and when Fundy had turned to look for his expression and found that he couldn’t, his eyes had suddenly reflected more stars than the night sky. Those very stars he loved so much were trapped in the glimmering liquid of his tears.

And Dream hated it. 

He didn’t hate Fundy for wishing he could see his face, no. He could never hate him. The love of his life, his _Helianthus_. No, Dream hated that he was doing this to the man he loved in his selfish wish to preserve the last wall he had left.

So Dream eventually tore down that wall.

When Fundy had arrived at their cottage one night (he’d moved in with Dream on top of his mountain), he had walked in grumbling and rubbing his temples on the verge of stressed tears. And Dream, being Dream, panicked and tore off his mask in one fluid moment. Fundy had turned around and froze, mouth opening and closing like a fish. 

“Am I not what you expected?” Dream had whispered weakly, fidgeting with his mask in his hands. He’d probably looked stupid, he mused now. He probably had a dent in his hair from the mask strap.

“No,” Fundy had whispered back, lurching forward on shaky steps at his taller husband’s flinch. “No, no, no, babe,” he’d breathed as he’d cupped Dream’s face in his hands, forcing him to look at him. 

“I always told you the stars blessed you,” Fundy had murmured in wonder, hands ghosting over the contours and speckles of stardust on Dream’s cheeks, almost as if he were afraid that at any moment he’d wake up from a dream.

He had pressed a gentle kiss to Dream’s reddened cheeks, before he simply pulled him in close in the flickering light of the lanterns to rest their foreheads together.

“Beautiful.”

> _-And at least in this lifetime, we’re sticking together._

Once the clock had started, Dream dropped all pretenses and did everything he could to let Fundy know that he was his and that he was loved. 

He made him waffles with his favorite strawberry syrup in the mornings with his favorite coffee. He watered their apple tree and would ghost next to him in Manburg just to hand him a plate of sliced apples and melt back into the shadows. He was more generous with his PDA, sometimes coming up behind the shorter man and hugging him from behind, sometimes pulling up his mask just enough to kiss him on the cheek, and sometimes just holding his hand as Fundy would talk on and on about some inane topic, but would retain Dream’s short attention span purely from the sparkle in his eyes and the excited wave of his other un-held hand. 

He would stay with him as long as he had left in this world. 

> _-And I am the idiot with the painted face_

However, he remained distant from the rest of the world. He walked amongst the caverns of Pogtopia and watched as Niki and Tubbo would pause in their words to eye him cautiously, lowering their gazes to the billowing hem of his deep green cloak when he faced them. He watched as Techno would incline his head respectfully, from one immortal to another, and pat him on the shoulder in mourning. He watched as Wilbur looked to him with the glimmering eyes of a man gone mad, gesturing wildly as he detailed more and more plans on how to light Manburg up like a bonfire on steroids. 

He watched as Tommy’s joyful eyes eventually dimmed as more and more bandages appeared on his too-young body and as the weight of upholding a shattered nation and leader was heaved upon his teenage shoulders.

And he watched as every set of eyes were tinged with fear upon seeing his smiling porcelain mask and the hellishly sharp axe that was constantly strapped to his belt. 

> _-In the corner, taking up space._

Dream had been too involved. In previous worlds, that had always been his mistake. His severe overstep.

He tended to forget who he was. Rather, _what_ he was. 

He was a Dreamon. An immortal god born of Mother Earth’s tears and the stars’ gentle sprinkling of stardust. An immortal god of chaos and war. But not the obvious sides of war, like the blood god, Technoblade, whose name was self explanatory. He was the god of the manipulation and tactical warfare that caused the bloodshed that bore the blood god. 

> _-But when he walks in, I am loved, I am in love._

Everywhere he went, that chaos would follow. Even if he had found someone to settle the storms of his rageful hurricanes for. Even if he finally found a reason to stop running. Stop fighting. 

To _love._

> _-Me and my husband,_

Tears were warm, Dream realized. As they slid down his face, he absently compared them to the feeling to rain and decided that the cold raindrops were nothing like the tears of his beloved. 

> _-We are doing better._

He was aware of the gathering crowd around them. 

Of George, shaking and clenching his hands together into fists. 

Of Sapnap, who was crying with his teeth bared in denial as he clutched at Karl, who was sobbing uncontrollably. 

Of Bad and Skeppy, huddled together as mourning cries ripped from their throats. 

Of Tubbo and Niki grasping desperately at Tommy’s sleeves as they sobbed, Niki holding Tubbo and Tommy in a motherly grasp, and Tommy, staring dead into the dying god's eyes, frozen. As the trio collapsed onto their knees, Tommy released a heartbroken scream that resonated throughout the clearing. Tubbo and Tommy clung together as a duo who had to watch as the man they saw as their older brother dissipated into the earth. 

Of Wilbur, who was staring blankly down at his hands and mumbling soundless _no_ ’s as clarity finally began to push past the insanity that had clouded his eyes.  
  
Of Schlatt, downing bottle after bottle of beer while he scrubbed at his face and swore. 

Of the others, milling around in the back in silent shock and surrounding Purpled, who was staring blankly in front of him.

And he was dimly aware of the fact that this was the first and last time they would see his face.

> _-It’s always been just him and me together._

Flashes in the clouds. Thundering rain against the bare skin of his face. The trembling hand brushing at his hair. 

The sky mourned for him. For their fallen son, who was never meant to join them. The clouds swirled in a vortex as tornadoes touched down onto the earth and uprooted trees and wildlife in mournful rage. 

With every tornado, every clap of thunder, every flash of lightning, and every sob, another memory flashed before his eyes.

_(Fundy shuffled awkwardly in front of him as the countdown ticked in the background. “Will,” he asked hesitantly, “will you watch Treasure Planet with me, uh," he stammered out, “Babe?”_

_“What,” Dream stated. Not asked. Stated. Fundy just shot him a shaky thumbs up._

_“No,” Dream said.)_

_-_

_(Fundy bounded up to him with a wide grin and bumped against his shoulders, tail swishing happily behind him. “Hey Dream!” He chirped out. Dream turned with a quiet_ hello _._

 _“Watch Treasure Planet with me?” Fundy begged, holding up a copy of the movie under his best puppy eyes. Dream paused for a moment and struggled against the new little bud inside of him that urged him to accept the offer, to accept_ Fundy _, and ultimately pulled away._

 _“No,” he said. “If you can make somewhere for us to watch it and impress me, then maybe,_ maybe, _it will be a yes.”_

_“It’s a deal!)_

_-_

_(Fundy grinned at him proudly from the other end of the white-clothed table. “Are you impressed yet?”_

_Dream looked around and stayed silent as he tried desperately to ignore the thumping of his heart in his ears, of what felt like a fist around his heart trying to hold it up from falling into love. “I, uh,” he whispered hoarsely, “yes," he whispered. “Yes.”_

_Fundy beamed at him and made him Mexican food, and the music was so unbelievably loud and so unbelievably Fundy.)_

_-_

_(Fundy was on his knees in front of him, hands cupped around a shimmering emerald ring. “Will you marry me?” He breathed out hopefully, fear swimming in the brown depths of his eyes._

_Dream looked at the restaurant Fundy had built overnight, all for him, and felt the fist clutching at his heart slacken. He looked back at the man on his knees and searched his eyes from behind his mask. The fear there, he realized in shock, wasn’t like the others. Fundy was not scared of him, of what he could do. No, he was scared he wouldn’t be loved back._

_“Yes,” he murmured, hesitantly reaching out to cup his hands around Fundy’s own. His hands, bandaged up to mid-fingers to prevent calluses contrasted strikingly with Fundy's hands, which were soft and had black nail polish. "Yes, I would love to marry you," he said quietly, "I would like that very much.”)_

_-_

_(“You suck at dancing, you know,” Fundy cackled, looking up at Dream’s flustered (and bare) face with a cheeky grin. “I might lose my feet if you step on them any more." Dream flattened his palm against the curve at the low of Fundy’s spine and drew him in closer to smother him against his chest._

_“Shut up,” he grumbled in embarrassment. “Dancing is different from parkour and speedrunning. It’s one or the other,_ Helianthus _.”_

 _Fundy scrunched up his nose cutely at the nickname. “You’ve never told me what that means,” he complained. “The first time you called me that, I thought you said_ Anus _. I thought you were calling your_ wonderful _husband an_ _actual_ _rectum.”_

_Dream buried his face into Fundy’s bright orange hair and laughed, clutching the other impossibly closer to him. “Noooo,” he wheezed. “It means--”)_

Fundy screamed his throat raw above him. He blocked the downpour of rain, but his tears replaced them as they slid down along Dream’s cold cheekbones. 

It wasn’t right. His love was never meant to scream. Never meant to worry, never meant to grieve, never meant for any of this misery.

> _-So I bet all I have on that furrowed brow,_

Dream raised a shaking hand to rub his thumb weakly between Fundy’s eyebrows. “Don’t,” he whispered, quiet voice deafening in the circle surrounding the dying god. “You’re gonna get wrinkles, _Helianthus_.”

“No, _please_ ,” Fundy begged, grasping at Dream’s freezing body desperately. “You can’t leave me, what’s happening to you, you’re disappearing oh gods, oh my _gods_ , why is this happening I _just_ found you I can’t lose you, _please_ , my love--”

> _-And at least in this lifetime, we’re sticking together._

“ _Helianthus_ means sunflower,” Dream breathed out. He could feel as his vocal cords began to slacken as they faded away and were stolen back by the earth. _No, not yet. I can’t leave him yet, my love, my Fundy, not yet not_ yet _\--_

“Wh--” Fundy sobbed. “Why are you talking about that nickname? Focus on stopping it, Dream, sweetheart, _please_ , you can’t just hang up those stupid pictures of us in a pumpkin patch and that stupidly fucking pretty picture you drew of me and just _leave_ , what am I supposed to _do_ with the damn things?”

Dream’s breath began to hiss in his chest. He was running out of time.

“I always hated clocks,” he whispered absently, eyes staring at the raging clouds. “Even as a god, I was still never able to stop the damn things, to stop the flow of time.” He turned his head to look into Fundy’s eyes.

“With you,” he breathed, “I never needed to. I cherished every day and breathing moment we shared. I’ll miss you burning down the kitchen when you tried to make me breakfast. I’ll miss you bringing random foxes you found in the forests to our home. I'll miss you trying to name the poor things _Berty_. I’ll miss holding you under the stars and listening to you talk about each constellation and every little story behind them.”

“You were brighter than all of them,” Dream sighed achingly, _lovingly_. “You lit up my world more than you will ever know. I wish I,” his hand dropped from Fundy’s teary face, “I wish I had more time. You loved the pond in L’Manburg before we went to war. You never told me, but you always used to stare over at it when we’d pass through the area. I wanted to take you there and make that strawberry jam you love, maybe some strawberries. It would’ve--” he coughed, “--been so damn cheesy and stupid, but you would have loved it. You would’ve given me that smile that makes me want to kiss your adorable nose and makes even the sun jealous.”

Dream felt himself go. He felt the sudden emptiness of his legs, of his chest, of his arms. Felt the invisible vines creeping around him to drag him under, sucking the life and the love straight from his heart and soul. 

But the joke was on them: they’d never really have it. He’d given up his heart long ago for Fundy. Given it away piece by piece in every sliced up apple, every slow dance in the night when Fundy couldn’t sleep, every piggy back ride he’d given the shorter man along the beach under the moonlight. 

His heart belonged to Fundy. His soul was his from the beginning. 

“ _Helianthus_ means sunflower,” he whispered against the wind. “And I will love you, my sunflower, forever. Neither the earth or the stars will be able to stop me. I know the man I married, and I know the man I fell in love with.”

He would fight until the second his conscience dissolved. He would fight for his love, for Fundy, for the man who taught him to let go and taught him to love. For the man wh . . .

. . .

_And at least in this lifetime, we’re sticking together._

_. . ._

_. . . Me and my husband . . ._

_. . . . . . **We were doing better.** _

**Author's Note:**

> Helianthos means sunflower.
> 
> By Dream calling Fundy his "helianthos", he's essentially saying that Fundy is his sunflower. Dream does this because sunflowers represent faithfulness and loyalty, and by saying this, Dream is declaring he is forever faithful and loyal to Fundy, his husband.
> 
> twitter: @skiesandcaverns  
> spotify: https://open.spotify.com/user/oom70g8durqfj9jhr6sdxakb0?si=iC9twj4gTxK3BRQ8oILD4Q


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